


Handle With Care

by brodylover



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Blade, Bondage, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Voyeurism, Whump, frozen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-30
Updated: 2012-11-30
Packaged: 2017-11-19 22:22:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/578278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brodylover/pseuds/brodylover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After four months, Dean finds Castiel being tortured in a warehouse by Zachariah. His only way to save his friend is to say yes to Michael, but in doing so, he may lose everything, including Castiel's friendship, forever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Handle With Care

The thing in the cage was all bones and blood and feathers, pressed up against the tight bars. Dean squinted, trying to see more, see what the thing was inside the cage, but it kept shifting, the black tipped wings scraping against the confines to hide its body and face all the more. Dean was curious, he wanted to know what was in the cage and, more than that, he wanted to help it. What he could see of its gaunt pale flesh was bloodstained; whip marks, burns, and gashes, ripping through what skin he could see. He knew that this thing was in pain and he wanted it to stop.  
He couldn't move though, not really. He was stuck in place, only able to shift his eyes, blink, breathe, and talk. He couldn't shift his eyes for long though, or do anything else to look away from the thing in the cage for long, before a headache would crackle through his mind, forced and unnatural.  
"Don't look." The caged thing would croak, its voice harsh and grating from screaming. It repeated it over and over again and as Dean listened closely he could tell that it wasn't one voice, but two.   
"So, you finally decided to join us." Zachariah smiled, leaning on the cage with his arms over his chest. "I've been waiting months for you. Disappeared right off my radar. Oh well, you're here now."  
Dean hated it when those jerks just appeared places. It always put him on edge. There was nothing about Zachariah that didn't put him on edge though. At least now he could get some answers.  
"What is that?" he demanded, eyes reverting back to the silvery wings.  
Zachariah shrugged, "An angel."  
Dean's breath quickened in pace, pupils dilating as he looked the thing over. "That doesn't look like any angel I've seen."  
Zachariah wrenched open the door to the cage before reaching in, his fingers crushing a mound of speckled silver feathers and dragging the poor creature out. It yelped in surprise and fear as it was pulled from the back of the metal box, bloodied and elongated arms covering its faces. It was naked but it didn't seem to be ashamed of that, but it was hiding its faces so strongly, as if it was disgusted that it, out of all angels, could be caught this way.  
"Well," Zachariah explained, "I needed a bit more skin to work with. I took a bit of the real form, mixed it with the human vessel and voila! More canvas and it doesn't burn your eyes out. Hell, the Grace is trapped inside! It can't even be used for more than staying alive!"  
The angel was standing before Zachariah now, facing its audience. Dean glanced down its body, studying the strangeness of its form as well as the damage. It was thin, emaciated with the ribs poking through the flesh, but that could have been starvation instead of its half true form. Arms and legs were long, fingers even longer, which gave it an elegant but gaunt appearance. There was a lot less damage than he had expected though, judging by the blood. The biggest amount of damage was in its chest, where a sigil that Dean didn't recognize had been carved and was weeping down the alien chest.   
"Why?" he growled.  
"To teach a lesson." Dean wanted to punch that thin little smile off of Zachariah's face as he continued, "Dean, you fight me, disobey my every request. I think it's time you saw what happens to those who don't do as they're told. Our friend here? He needs to learn a lesson too. He needs to reacquaint himself with loyalty and faith."  
"How would torture accomplish that?"  
"Well, he'd know not to disappoint us again."  
Zachariah twisted his hand, the wing twisting with it, and there was a loud snapping sound followed by a few others as the bones within it broke. The angel did not scream as it collapsed in the pain, arms finally leaving its faces to make contact with the warehouse floor. He bit into the soft flesh of his chapped lower lip, drawing blood in his refusal to scream.  
There had been three heads, but now there were two. The one on the right had been lopped off at the neck and Dean had no guess as to what it had looked like but the one on the left was that of a jackal, though it was cut horribly, one eye gauged out. It was the head in the middle that terrified him the most, the head that was human.  
"Cas?" he gasped.  
Zachariah grabbed Castiel again, raising him to his feet by his humanoid throat. Dean couldn't tear his eyes away from the bright blue of his friends and Castiel couldn't try to look away. His eyes were pleading, in so much pain and fear.  
"Don't look!" croaked his jackal head.  
He didn't want to look, he didn't. But he couldn't look away. Some curses and "oh Gods" passed his lips but he didn't think about them, didn't even realize that they were audible.   
Zachariah just kept smiling.  
"I know," he ran his fingers through Cas's dark blood slicked hair, "it doesn't look like much. I mean, you haven't seen him in how long? Four months? Surely he should be in worse condition than this!"  
Four months. Castiel had vanished like he always did and Dean hadn't thought about it once. But he never came back. He never returned in the nick of time, he never dragged them off to fight some demon or other, he never even appeared to see if they had come any closer to knowing how to keep the apocalypse at bay.   
Four months and Dean had just assumed that he was fine, that he was fighting his own battles and doing his own research on Lucifer. Never did he think to call him, see if he was alright, see if he was coming back, or even if he was still alive. It was just too strange to think about, Cas not being alright, Cas being in such trouble that he couldn't get out.  
They hadn't even come here for Castiel. How could they if it hadn't even dawned on them that he was in danger? No, they had come because it seemed that there was major demon activity in the area. Animal deaths, not just cattle, but birds, cats, all sorts of animals had been dropping dead, having hemorrhaged horribly. There was mass hysteria and people were dreaming of blood at night. Some had to move away, their ears bleeding if they were too close to the source, this warehouse.   
The Winchesters had decided to check it out. It wasn't like all of the other demon situations, but it was close, and it could be a lead on Lucifer. Bobby didn't think so though, he thought it was too different, not having strange weird weather patterns or black smoke, so he'd come along as well. Brought one of every bullet he owned anyway, so he could be of some use regardless of what they ran into. They didn't expect all of the symptoms to be caused by one little angel.  
Yet here he was, Castiel, a crumpled angel, with defeat and pain in his eyes. Not just physical pain as Zachariah had broken his body every day for the past four months but mental as well. He stared at Dean, betrayed and uncared for, hating himself for ever feeling he could depend on the human he had once had so much faith in. It hurt Dean to look at him, but it was a physical pain to look away.   
"I like to work with a fresh canvas, so I heal him up every day and start again. I have his phone too, you know." Zachariah elucidated, "Let him listen to his messages. Shame really, he doesn't seem to have many friends. Four months and he got, hmm, nine calls? None of them from you but from your brother, that was interesting. Four of them were asking for help, another four were for saying 'never mind, we got it', only one was out of concern. It wasn't even concern for Castiel though. 'hey Cas, did we do something wrong? Why aren't you talking to us'?" he was mocking Sam now, his voice higher pitched than the hunters but the point still came across, "Really, I don't understand why he cares so much for you! You have proven time and time again how little you respect and care for him!"  
Castiel believed every word that Zachariah was saying. It was obvious, written in the cold gaze that he held on Dean. His mouth was slightly parted, as if he wanted to say something, but nothing came out. He wanted Dean to stand up for himself, to deny what Zachariah was saying but Dean couldn't. He could only stare as his eyes reddened, tears welling up in them. He wanted to prove himself innocent, but he couldn't! There was no way he could get Castiel to believe him, not after four months of torture.  
"Please." Dean was gasping, trying to hold his composure, "Let him. Let him go."  
Zachariah's smile widened, "Of course."  
Castiel dropped to the floor, pushing out his mangled hands with their split and broken fingers to catch himself, wincing as he did. His superior grabbed a hold of both wings, tugging on them to keep Castiel at least partially upright. It was excruciating, a mangled wing being pulled taut, but he scrunched his eyes closed and drew fresh blood from his mutilated bottom lip to stay silent.   
"This is a lesson in loyalty, Dean." Zachariah explained, "You can be loyal to me, say yes to Michael, and Castiel here will be healed up and sent on his way. Castiel, you can be loyal to me, leave these humans behind and rejoin my ranks, and I will forgive your trespasses."  
Castiel's eyes turned up to Zachariah's and for a moment Dean was terrified that he would agree to it. He didn't though, he just stared, and it dawned on Dean that it wasn't the first time that the broken angel had heard that offer. It was something he had heard over and over every day since he had been taken in by his superior. He never said yes. He never gave in. He never broke.  
Dean wouldn't either. Not like he had in Hell.  
"That isn't going to happen." He choked, "Not now, not ever."  
"Hmm. That's not what I wanted to hear."  
Faster than Dean could blink in his weird mostly frozen state Zachariah was holding one of those long silver angel blades. If Dean could have he would have bolted forward but he couldn't so he shouted instead. He was aware of many "Leave him alone"s and "Get away from him"s, but most of what he was shouting were curses and threats. None of them had any effect on Zachariah though, he just kept carving away.  
Castiel squirmed as the blade pierced his side, just under his ribcage and glided across, separating the skin of his torso into two pieces, but he still did not scream. Dean squinted, trying not to stare at the glowing Grace that was spilling from the wound as blood dripped down, but his eyes were fine, not burning out of his skull as he had expected. The Grace was weak and kept in check by the sigil.  
The wound wasn't deep but it was painful and Castiel's fingernails were drawing blood from his palms as he clenched them into fists.   
Zachariah did not heed them though and he continued to carve, drawing the blade lightly through flesh until Castiel was shaking in agony, not strong enough to attempt any form of escape. His mouth was forced open by a glowing ball of light, his Grace ready to flee his body as had his brothers when the blade had been plunged into them.   
Only then did Zachariah drop his blade to the floor and lose his grip on Castiel's wings. The arm fell behind his back supporting him almost gracefully as his other blood stained hand covered his subordinate's mouth, forcing the Grace to remain inside.   
There were tears dripping down from Castiel's eyes, running into the blood on his face and seeping down. He kept his eyes on Dean, who was crying as well, distraught at seeing his friend fall so low.   
"Isn't he good, Dean?" Zachariah hissed, "He's so quiet. You should have heard him before, making so much noise. That's why there have been all those animal deaths, Dean. Castiel's voice, not demons. But you're here, so he'll stay quiet. I wonder if he can keep it up."  
When he lowered his hand from Castiel's mouth the ball of Grace had faded away, gone back to where it belonged inside of him. Once again Zachariah took hold of his blade but this strike was much more fatal.   
"No!" Dean screamed anew as Zachariah plunged the blade into Castiel's second throat. The Jackal head fought against him, grace spilling from its neck and its mouth opened, just as the mouth that Dean was used to did, but neither one screamed. They made the shape of it, but the vocal chords in one throat were cut and they weren't being allowed to work in the other. While Castiel did allow himself to scream in his agony, he did not employ his vocal chords or his real voice to the job.   
Zachariah stabbed again and again, repeatedly, the blade much too narrow to saw through the throat, until the meat was soft and the head a useless and sagging mess. He reached his fingers into the gash and ripped the head the rest of the way off. Only then did Castiel lose consciousness.  
Zachariah dropped his limp and broken frame to the ground before stepping over it and approaching Dean. His smile had never left his face, but now it was red, Castiel's almost human blood sprayed across his face.  
"Can you explain to me Dean, why he's so loyal to you?" he asked, "You truly don't show the same amount of care for him. He was here for four months and it was only the damage he was causing that brought you here. Now here you are and you won't lift a finger to save him. If it was Sam you would have said yes almost immediately."  
"Please." Dean squeaked. He tore his eyes from Castiel's limp form and stared at his feet. Everything that Zachariah said was true except one small piece. He would have said yes for Sam, but it wasn't because he cared about Sam more. He'd do anything for Sam, he did care more about him than some winged tax accountant with a holy stick up his ass, but that had nothing to do with why he wouldn't say yes.   
He promised Castiel that he wouldn't.  
His eyes flashed back up to Castiel as his head felt that it would split in two if he didn't. Zachariah was only inches from him now. Castiel must not have been the only angel who didn't understand personal space, then.   
"Where is Sammy, anyway?" Zachariah mocked.  
Dean's arm was moving, his hand digging in the interior pocket of his jacket to find his cell phone. He didn't want to call Sam, didn't want his brother here in front of Zachariah, but he couldn't stop himself. His muscles burned as he fought to bring his hand down from his jacket, to return it to his side or, better, into Zachariah's face as a punch. But it was clear that he wasn't in control over his movements anymore, Zachariah was.  
The angel accessed his speed dial and selected Sam's name before lifting the phone to Dean's ear. He couldn't even fight vocally, Zachariah having taken control of his mouth as well. When Sam answered he wanted to warn him, to scream and shout, to get Sam as far away from the warehouse as he could, but his voice was calm, soft, and inviting.  
"Hey Sam. Uh, I found Castiel, I guess he was causing all the damage here. Yeah, not demons, weird I know. We're in warehouse 13A… yeah, get over here. He's a bit worse for wear so I'm going to need your help here. Yeah. See ya."  
Zachariah hung up his phone and placed it in his pocket before giving Dean access to his own voice. The first thing Dean did with it was growl, "You bastard."  
The angel just shrugged at that, "Not possible. My father is God." as he skipped back over to Castiel. He grabbed him once more by the broken wing and lifted him to a kneeling position. With a wave of his hand the grace faded from the decapitated wound and his eyes sparkled as he turned to Dean once more. "What should we do until Sam get's here?"  
"Let him go." Dean swallowed but his mouth was dry, "I'm the one you want. Just leave him alone."  
"You are the one I want, Dean, so say yes and I will stop."  
With a pat on his remaining head, Castiel was brought back to consciousness, squirming and reeling in agony. Zachariah stretched the broken appendage out once again and brought the other wing up to meet with it. He crossed the two pieces across from one another, stretching them so painfully in the wrong direction that they popped and the owner was gritting his teeth to hold back his cries.   
His superior pinned them together with the blade as if he were some exotic butterfly. Then he moved on to his crumpled and broken hands, the fingers going in all sorts of directions from being broken. He held them together and wrapped them, tying the wrists tightly together, with barbed wire. The barbs caught and ripped at the pain pale skin. He then raised the hands up, using the excess wire to tie them to the wings, wrapping the barbs into the feathers, gauging into the once elegant forms.   
With Castiel bound thusly he pulled out a rope, seemingly from the air, which was where he was getting everything else. He tied one end to the blade before vanishing, reappearing in the rafters up above and tying the other end of the rope up there, hoisting Castiel off of his feet. He was only inches off of the ground, but the movement dislocated his arms and wings, which were not built to hold his weight like this. He was bucking and wriggling, trying to get away, but that was not a possibility.  
"Cas, I'm sorry." Dean cried drawing the angel's attention back to him, "I'm so sorry. Please, I want you to know that I do care. I'm sorry I didn't come for you sooner. You're just, you're so strong Cas, I couldn't imagine that you could be in trouble. I'm so sorry."  
"Dean…" Castiel gasped, "Don't say it, please, don't say it. I will take this; I will take years of this, for you to not say yes. You promised. I will not break."  
Dean went quiet and not only because Zachariah was back at Castiel's side but because there was nothing he could say. He wanted to say yes, he was just about to. He thought it would be good, that Castiel would allow him to break his promise, that he'd let the human save him. That wasn't the case. Castiel still wanted him to say no.  
"Why not just give in? Why not have faith in our father's plan?" Zachariah asked and he seemed absolutely serious, as if he really wanted to know.  
"I have faith." Castiel groaned, "I have faith but not in our fathers plan. He is not in Heaven and he would not want this. I have faith in Dean Winchester."  
There was a syringe in Zachariah's hand and it was filled with a red black liquid. He held it as if it were a cigarette.  
"I had one order." Castiel shuddered, his eyes glancing on the metal and glass in his captors hand, "Save Dean. That's what I am doing."  
"Hmm." Zachariah pressed the syringe into Castiel's arm, on the inside of his elbow. The action was almost delicate; as if he were a real phlebotomist and he pushed the contents out into Castiel. He immediately began to buck anew, ripping his arm downward painfully, degloving his wrist on the barbed wire. His veins became visible from Dean's distance, turning black as the strange liquid was pumped through them. The skin around them was burning, smoke billowing up from holes rotted through his wrists.  
"Stop it!" Dean was bellowing even though he knew it would do nothing.  
Castiel was positively convulsing as the smoke and the burns traveled into his chest. He was whining and finally his true voice could be heard. He was just barely keeping it in check and it was quiet, far away, but Dean's head was pounding with the force of it anyway.  
"Why?" Zachariah chuckled and there was another syringe in his hand, once again filled, "Why should I stop before I've taught you your lessons?"  
"What is that?" Sam snarled, standing in the doorway. He was large, larger than normal, machete in one hand and gun in the other, although both of them were useless. He was puffing himself up, making himself larger to protect his brother and the angel across the room, like a bear with her cubs.   
"Demons blood." Zachariah smiled, "Want to try some Sammy?"  
"It's Sam." He took a step forward before he froze, trapped the same way that Dean was.   
"No. You don't get to move. Not unless I tell you to. Right now I want you to not move. I will be with you in a moment."  
"What is this?" Sam asked, looking at Dean as best he could.  
"He wants us to say yes." Dean murmured, "I can't. I… I want to."  
"Don't."   
Zachariah pressed the syringe into Castiel's other arm and he was bucking and wriggling even harder now, the barbed wire cutting deep gashes into his degloved wrists. The whining was worse too and the Winchester's ears were bleeding now.   
Zachariah stepped away from his project and back towards Dean, a secondary blade in hand. He held it out to the human, but his eyes were on Sam. "You know Dean was in Hell, yes? You want to see what it was he learned there?"  
Dean's hand came up, taking the blade from him and the tears were rolling down his face once again. He couldn't fight back; he couldn't help but take that life destroying blade.  
"You can't do this to me. Please." He begged but Zachariah was ignoring him.   
"Have fun." He smiled.  
Dean was walking towards Castiel now, pleading with "please"s and "oh God no"s but without any ability to stop himself from approaching his friend. How he wished he could do something, anything else. He was almost upon Castiel's still writhing form, his feet slipping in the blood coated floor when he realized that there was something else he could do after all.  
"I'm sorry Cas." He sobbed, "I really am. Yes. Okay? Yes."  
The blade in his hand dropped down to his side and he was finally able to tear his eyes from Castiel's ruined frame. He was crying now, an angel that was never meant to feel was crying, but Dean couldn't focus on that. He had said yes, and he meant it, anything to get this whole thing to stop. He turned to Zachariah, finally able to use his limbs as he wanted.   
"You let Cas go, you heal him up and you let him leave. You let Sam go. You bring our mom and dad back. I will be Michael's vessel."  
"Finally!" Zachariah's smile became genuine, not just a mockery as Dean's betrayal flooded him. He stepped forward, hand out, ready to touch Dean's forehead the way that Castiel had once done. Dean knew that his friend would never do that again.  
There was the sound of gunshot and Zachariah paused, eyes wide. He rolled his eyes, complaining, "What now" as he turned, revealing to Dean the massive hole in his back, where a shotgun shell had torn his nice suit to rags.   
Bobby sat in the doorway, reloading the double barreled shotgun in his hands. Dean didn't know how he'd been able to sneak in so quietly, wheelchairs weren't known for stealth, but he was glad it was possible anyway. He stepped forward, bringing the angel blade up and digging it deep into Zachariah's back, right between the ribs.   
He fell forward, grabbing at the blade in his back but not quite able to reach it. It wasn't deep enough to kill him and Dean swore under his breath for that. He turned though, not giving Zachariah the time to heal up and attack in return, and dipped his hand into the pool of blood on the floor. He drew the sigil on the ground and almost pressed his hand to it before pausing.  
He couldn't banish the angels. If he banished Zachariah, Castiel would be sent who knows where as well. And in his condition and form that wasn't a good idea at all.   
He drew his own knife from his side and cut the shuddering and convulsing angel down from his bondage, holding him close as he pressed both of their hands to the sigil. There was a blinding light, just for a moment, and then Zachariah was gone.  
Castiel was struggling in Dean's arms, pushing him away as best he could with his burned through and dislocated arms as if Dean was as much a torturer as Zachariah.  
"Don't touch me!" he coughed, his voice hardly understandable through the pain he was still suffering.  
Dean let him go. He didn't want to, but he did. Castiel dragged himself away from him as best he could, heading towards Sam and Bobby before his strength ran out and he collapsed to the cement floor, his body curling in on itself as the demon blood coursed through his chest.   
"Why?" he sobbed, "why would you say yes? I suffered through this for so long. Gave you everything. Did everything for you. You really don't care. You really are as he said."  
Dean reached out; wanting to touch Castiel, but the angel jumped and cried out as if he expected the contact to be painful.  
"No, Cas! I care! I just. I wanted him to stop. I wanted you to be okay. Please, I want you to be okay."  
Castiel dragged himself a few more inches away from Dean, his one good wing steering to keep him from falling one way or another. He was still whining, the sound painful and broken, but his true voice was growing stronger, more painful. He was going to lose. It was going to come out.  
"Sam!" he was crying out and the larger of the hunters was at his side in a moment, his hand resting over the entirety of his shoulder.   
"What can I do, Cas? What do you need?" he was asking and Dean's heart sank that Castiel couldn't even ask him for the help he so desperately needed. It was Sam that he relied on now.  
"I… I can't. I'm going… kill you all." Castiel stuttered, "Knock me. Out. Please!"  
Sam looked around, but he had no idea what to do. It was Bobby who figured it out, raising his shotgun up and slowly aiming it at Castiel. Dean swallowed hard. Bobby was going to shoot him? Not only had he been tortured and his healing factor was turned off somehow, but now he was going to be shot? That just seemed like too much.  
Bobby fired and the shot hit Castiel in the other shoulder. It wasn't a bullet though, but a tranquilizer. Bobby really had packed one of everything. Within moments Castiel had lost consciousness in Sam's arms.   
"How?" Dean breathed.  
"How did I know you were here? Sam told me." Bobby explained.  
"But the phone call."  
"You called Cas Castiel Dean." Sam looked up at his brother, his fingers brushing through Castiel's thick dark hair, "You never call him by his full name. I knew it had to be a trap."  
Dean fell backward, sitting hard on the cement, ignoring the sticky blood seeping through his jeans and burying his face in his hands. "Oh God, what have I done? I wanted him to be okay. I wanted to say yes so that he would survive this. Now he won't even let me touch him! I don't deserve him, you know that? I don't deserve your support, I don't deserve to have Cas put his faith in me, I deserve to go back to Hell. That's what I am. That's how low I am. Oh God."  
"Shut up, you idjit!" Bobby glowered, "Stop feeling bad for yourself! You think you're the only one who has things you don't deserve? Look at us! All of us have things we don't deserve! What do we do about it? We either try to fix it or we make ourselves better, so that we deserve it."  
Sam stood up, cradling the sleeping angel in his arms, "You don't deserve to be in Hell Dean, you do your best. Cas is just going to need some time is all."  
He carried Cas out of the warehouse and over to Bobby's van, lying him down on the back seat and covering his cold nakedness with a blanket that had been kept under the seat. They hadn't brought the Impala, Bobby not being able to get into it with his wheelchair, so they'd brought a van he had been repairing, complete with ramp for the handicapped. They all crawled into the car, Sam taking the driver's seat and Dean taking the back. He knew that Cas didn't want him to touch him but he sat there, holding Cas's head in his lap for lack of space, and touched any part that wasn't damaged, trying to soothe him in his unconsciousness.


End file.
